


This Clay and Granite Planet

by cheshirecatstrut



Category: Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Conspiracy, F/M, Mystery, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:29:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22684762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecatstrut/pseuds/cheshirecatstrut
Summary: In Neptune, a town named after the planet of illusion, nothing is as it seems. Veronica tried to leave it all behind, the better to drown her sorrows; but when an unexpected event draws her home, she learns the deceptions extend further than she ever could have imagined.A fix-it Season Five, written in script format.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 67
Kudos: 61





	This Clay and Granite Planet

**Author's Note:**

> I took some liberties with descriptions of action, since this is meant to be read as a story, not an actual script. It's a very experimental format for me, hope you all enjoy anyway. And don't worry; there's a Lot Going On, but as always with my fics, this one's all about the LoVe.

INT. TROPICAL RENTAL HOUSE -- DAY

WIDE SHOT OF A SMALL ROOM. VERONICA MARS lies in bed in a tropical rental house, fan gently spinning. Windows on every wall look out on a vista of beach, sky, sea; the image comes slowly into focus as she wakes. She looks down to find a man’s arm around her, and turns to see LOGAN ECHOLLS. He seems to be sleeping until he speaks.

LOGAN

You’re restless this morning.

VERONICA

Nope, just too happy to sleep.

Logan smiles, cuddling her closer.

LOGAN

Our belated honeymoon is everything you hoped, I gather?

Veronica pretends to think, tapping her bottom lip with one finger. Logan opens his eyes to watch, indulgent.

VERONICA

Well, the four-star meals, professional massages, and dancing the night away didn’t suck. But there IS one thing, this morning, I feel like I’m missing. If only SOMEBODY could help me really, truly relax.

He laughs and rolls on top of her, grinning down.

LOGAN

Are those my mission parameters? Because you know it’s my duty, as a decorated officer, to serve and protect.

Kissing the tip of her nose, he bobs his eyebrows, then proceeds to press further kisses along her throat and chest. Peeling back the blanket, he peeks beneath, then ducks under it, disappearing from view.

Veronica smiles as she settles back to enjoy the moment.

VERONICA

God bless the US Navy.

CLOSE ON Veronica’s face as a loud horn honks, accompanied by cursing, and she frowns.

ZOOM OUT TO WIDE SHOT as she wakes for real.

She is actually asleep in a cheap motel, sun filtering anemically through dingy blinds. Rolling out of bed, she groans, clearly hung over; checks the cell phone on the nightstand for the time, groans again. Stumbles across the room to the coffee maker and hits the switch, then bends to rummage in her handbag—the black one with studded strap from season 3. She extracts an almost-empty flask of whiskey, pours a big glug into a mug, and tops it with coffee. Crossing to the window, she tugs the shade cord and sips, squinting out through brightness at a low-rent parking lot.

VERONICA (V.O.)

Another shitty morning in another shitty town. These are the perks when you operate under the radar, thanks to the peskiest immutable fact of my life; almost every state requires its own PI license. And honestly, who has time to take that test over, and over, and over? Or, frankly, the desire?

TRACKING SHOT. Veronica yanks the curtains shut, and crosses to a tiny bathroom of suspect cleanliness. Turning on the shower, she drains her cup and sets it on the sink. Stares at her pale and weary face in the mirror.

VERONICA (V.O.)

Someone—Logan would probably know who—once said, if you live long enough, you’ll become the thing you hate. Case in point—me. My mother got her act together, had a second kid she takes to Boy Scouts, twelve-steps like it’s going out of style. But I’ve taken up the baton. Like the Lianne Mars of my teen years, I now drink and flee to forget.

CLOSE ON Veronica’s face as she climbs into the shower, gasps and sputters as she realizes it’s cold. Grimly begins washing anyway.

VERONICA (V.O.)

Then again, when the guy you’ve loved since age twelve gets blown up on your wedding day, because you’re too struck with ennui to check the back seat for bombs? There’s no shortage of regrets from which to hide inside a bottle.

CUT TO Veronica with wet hair, another cup of ‘coffee’ beside her at the motel room desk, opening a browser on her laptop.

VERONICA (V.O.)

I’m currently in Tulsa, working a blackmail case that started out sticky, and is rapidly turning into the La Brea Tar Pits; I’ve begun to doubt any amount of cash is worth it. The guy writing checks was supposed to forward emails last night, which would prove our villain’s identity beyond a doubt. But I forgot to look after stumbling back from the bar. Now it’s ten-thirty, and there’s nothing in my inbox except the usual ‘thinking of you’ messages from Wallace--which I long ago quit answering. Plus…something short and sweet from his mother, Alicia, who’s avoided me like the plague since she dumped Dad all those years back. I’m guessing she hasn’t been struck with nostalgia for days gone by.

CLOSE ON the email from ALICIA FENNEL, which reads, “We’ve tried calling repeatedly, but you don’t answer. Your father had an accident and is in the hospital. You need to come home.”

INT. NEPTUNE HOSPITAL HALLWAY -- DAY

TWO-SHOT of Veronica, who stands in the hall of the Neptune Hospital (mirroring her wait after Keith’s car wreck in the movie) with DOCTOR PETERSON, a young-ish ER intern who looks distracted and harassed.

DOCTOR PETERSON

His hip was broken in three places—we’ll have to do a replacement. At his age, and considering his physical condition, I’d estimate three months before he can start physical therapy, and six months to a year before he’s fully recovered.

CLOSE ON Veronica as she nods, obviously not pleased by this scenario. Cut to Doctor Peterson, who frowns.

DOCTOR PETERSON (CONT’D)

Someone will need to monitor him, take care of him throughout the recovery phase. Would that be you?

Veronica’s expression turns evasive.

VERONICA

Let me talk to him first. Then we’ll see.

Dr. Peterson nods and walks away. V takes a deep breath, donning her best fake-cheerful expression before knocking and entering the room.

INT. KEITH MARS HOSPITAL ROOM -- DAY

KEITH MARS, looking even more wan and tired than he did in season four, lies dozing in the hospital bed. He struggles to wake when he sees his daughter.

VERONICA

You know, when the criminals tell you to take a flying leap, Dad, I’m pretty sure they don’t mean it literally.

Keith makes an effort at breezy banter that’s only semi-successful; he is obviously in pain, but manages a regretful snap of fingers.

KEITH

Too bad you weren’t here to explain the subtext, when Bugsy and Mac the Knife started in with empty threats.

Veronica sits on the chair by his bed.

VERONICA

Too bad is right. Looks like they burst your balloon, and how.

He gestures in the general direction of his hip.

KEITH

Oh, this old thing? Just a flesh wound. I’ll be better in no time--you didn’t have to come all this way just to wring your hands at my bedside.

Playfully, she nudges his shoulder.

VERONICA

Come on, of course I did. No matter how world-famous a PI I become, you’ll always be my father.

Keith offers a wan smile that implies the opposite.

KEITH

And you know I couldn’t be prouder.

Veronica reads the subtext--her face falls, She recovers quickly, though, and re-dons the false smile, while subtly glancing behind her towards the door and escape.

VERONICA

Well, you’ve had a nasty twenty-four hours, and you look beat. How about I run down to the cafeteria and get some food, let you rest? I’ll be back to check on you again in a while.

KEITH

Hot tip from a guy who knows—avoid the meatloaf.

She nods, and he shuts his eyes, drifting slowly towards drugged sleep. V turns to make for the door, but his slurred voice stops her.

KEITH (CONT’D)

Hey, Veronica? Where’s Logan, anyway? Still deployed? Seems like that slacker should have been in to visit me by now. You tell him whenever he turns up--he’s in my black books.

CLOSE ON Veronica as her face registers concern, then grief; Keith’s memory problems have worsened in her absence, not improved.

INT. NEPTUNE HOSPITAL CAFETERIA -- DAY

TWO-SHOT of Veronica sitting with ALICIA FENNEL at a communal table. Veronica has an untouched plate of food before her, and she’s stirring her creamed corn with a fork. Alicia is drinking tea.

ALICIA

Wallace kept tabs on him for as long as he could—showed up with a six-pack every Sunday for Football Night. But since the second baby came, he hasn’t had a lot of free time. So I took over, showing up with casseroles, joining Keith for a cup of his terrible coffee. And Veronica…I can vouch for the fact that, mentally, he’s not the man he used to be.

VERONICA

He told me his memory problems were caused by a medication mix-up.

Alicia rolls her eyes.

ALICIA

Every doctor and pharmacy in the country has software that checks for drug conflicts. Trust me, I’m old enough to know.

CLOSE ON Alicia as, emphatically, she sets down her cup.

ALICIA (CONT’D)

Here’s the harsh truth—his memory’s gotten too spotty for him to continue living alone. He might fall again, or accidentally start a fire. I recognize that you…travel for a living, now, and don’t have the wherewithal to care for him. And that’s fine—it’s your life. But if you don’t plan to be around, you should find a safe place for him to stay.

INT. HAPPY SENIORS NURSING HOME, REC ROOM -- DAY

TWO-SHOT of Veronica sitting at a small, round table with PERKY DIRECTOR, a young, idealistic woman with a real zeal for senior care. They are surrounded by nurses in scrubs and semi-catatonic Alzheimer’s patients. These unfortunates sit in wheelchairs and recliners, in various stages of mental degeneration, barely responding to aides who try to engage them. The place looks clean and expensive, but Veronica is appalled.

The perky director speaks over-cheerfully, as if to a child, leaning forward to make each earnest point.

PERKY DIRECTOR

Our most popular enrichment activity is Music Night; Nurse Barney brings his guitar and plays hits from the fifties and sixties. The residents have a blast, singing along. From what you tell me, it should be right up your dad’s alley.

Veronica can’t quite manage to conceal her horror.

VERONICA

Oh, I’m sure he’d have a VERY strong opinion.

PERKY DIRECTOR

Then it’s settled! He’ll fit right in! You’ll have to act fast with the paperwork and first-two-months’ payment, though. We’re almost at capacity, and we’re the only well-rated facility in Neptune.

Abruptly, Veronica pushes her chair back and grabs her bag, preparing to flee. This conversation exceeds her ability to cope.

VERONICA

Thanks for the sales pitch. I’ll be in touch.

INT. VERONICA’S CAR -- DAY

CLOSE ON Veronica in her car, a black Saturn. She angrily brushes away tears before chugging from a Contigo mug full of ‘coffee’.

VERONICA (V.O.)

Because we managed to say ‘I do’, just before the bitter end, I have access to Logan’s long-untouched, inherited millions. I don’t like spending them any more than he did; it’s blood money from his abusive movie-star father. The man who once locked me in a fridge and set it on fire, because I found proof he murdered my teenaged best friend. But that awful Alzheimer’s clearing house costs ten grand a month, and there’s no way I can afford it, otherwise. And the sole remaining option nearby makes the Happy Seniors Nursing Home look like Shangri-La.

Veronica flops back into her seat, gazes across the parking lot and busy street. Camera pans to a neatly-painted Craftsman on the other side with a discreet sign hung over the door.

CLOSE ON sign, which reads ‘Jane Meyer, Psychiatrist’.

VERONICA (V.O.)

But maybe there’s someone I can go to for advice. My dearly-departed spouse probably bought his shrink a French chalet, with what he paid for all his years of therapy. It was no piece of cake, getting past his misspent, jackass-y youth. That woman owes him, and therefore, me—certainly enough to squeeze me in on a whim for one more half-hour visit.

TRACKING SHOT as, deciding on a course of action, V careens across the street, clearly the worse for wear in the ‘coffee’ department. Parks with a jerk in Jane’s lot, causing her purse to go flying. She curses and bends to pick up the contents, now scattered across the floorboards, then sits up, flustered.

Cut to LONG SHOT of Logan walking out the Craftsman’s back door—tall, healthy, very much not dead, dressed in black. He flips a set of car keys around his finger as he crosses the lot to a sleek black sports car, failing to notice V watching. Climbing in, he drives away.

CLOSE ON Veronica’s face as emotions cycle across it: shock, disbelief, yearning. Then she throws the car into gear and speeds off in hot pursuit.

Her Saturn closes the distance rapidly. She sees him glance into the rearview, notice the tail…but instead of pulling over, he accelerates. Begins a series of evasive maneuvers which she matches; a chase ensues.

They squeal around corners, through alleys, cat-and-mouse. Ultimately, he crosses an intersection just as the light turns red; when she attempts to follow, she’s hit by a car coming from her right. She’s not hurt, but her path forward is effectively blocked.

CLOSE ON Veronica as she stares after the sports car receding into the distance; she’s dazed, upset, full of adrenaline. A crowd gathers, peering into the windows, but she ignores them.

Her expression slowly hardens into one of righteous fury. Bobcat is back, and Logan must pay.

VERONICA (V.O.)

And sometimes, turns out, advice _isn’t_ what a girl needs most. Sometimes, she can just cast her mind back to eleventh grade, when the boy she loved inexplicably betrayed her. At which point, the appropriate course of action becomes abruptly crystal-clear.


End file.
